


Umpqua Rushing

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, One-Shot, Red's pov, Romance, Song fic, Umpqua Rushing, by Blind Pilot, lyrics are not mine!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Song fic from an anon prompt on tumblr based on the song "Umpqua Rushing" by Blind Pilot. The lyrics in italics are not mine! An angsty, drabble-type, one-shot from Red's POV as he listens to the song and considers his feelings for Lizzie. Lizzington.





	Umpqua Rushing

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this short fic is "Umpqua Rushing" by Blind Pilot (suggested by an anon on tumblr). The lyrics in italics are theirs, not mine, I'm just borrowing them as fuel for this angst fest! Please go listen to this great song!

Red lays listlessly in the hammock, swinging gently with the cool night breeze, staring up at the stars through the interlocked branches of the tree above him, earbuds in his ears, music playing, soft and potent.

He’s thinking of Lizzie.

_You’ve been a forest burning no direction_  
_Caught me sleeping smoke in my protection_  
_Your blackened branches drifting through my water_  
_Are you wrapped up in his arms? I’m rushing faster and faster_

She has been a forest burning, for far longer than she’s realized, since she was young, snared in a trap of espionage and murder, far too innocent to be aware of it. And still, she’s burning now, lately more than ever, with no direction. Lost, ever since he pushed his way back into her life, desperate to help, be the water that she needed to put the fire out. But no, he’s never been that for her, he’s always been the smoke, choking her, making it hard for her to breath, pressing closer to protect her when he’s really the one making her suffocate.

And she has no reason to go to him, trust him, love him, but it still hurts that she’s with Tom, the liar. And no matter how fast Red rushes, he can’t catch them, pull her away to the safety and smoke of his embrace. He never will. 

_Panic in the taste of all that could have been_  
_Even what I thought wasn’t worth giving_  
_At least my mind has changed_

What could have been? Well, there’s no point dwelling over that. 

(It doesn’t stop him from dreaming in the dead of night, tangled in a hammock, tears in his eyes and music in his ears.)

Because he has nothing worth giving her. Just smoke and the black ashes of who he used to be, the remnants of her life without him, blown away on the stiff night air. Gone. But at least his mind has changed, as he knows now he will do whatever he must do to save her and her happiness, even if that means leaving her. 

He refuses to choke her anymore.

_I’ve been a forest burning no direction_  
_I tried to hold you, I tried everything but running_  
_My heart is panicking are you kissing him?_  
_Are you reaching through all your days with him?_  
_Your blackened branches drifting through my water_  
_Are you over me? Are you? Are? You are_

He squeezes his eyes shut at the thought of Lizzie kissing Tom, spending her days with him, the pretender. Because if Red is smoke, acrid and billowing, then Tom is the very gas that feeds the flames, disguised as fresh air, tricking her, leading back into the fire.

And is she over Red? Of course not, as that would imply she had to care about him to begin with. Lizzie doesn’t think of Red that way, the way she thinks of Tom, the betrayer, and if that brings a lonely ache to Red’s breast and sends tears spilling down his cheeks than that’s his burden to bear in the darkness of night.

_I will not hold you. I will not feel your sway_  
_I will not miss you. I will not think each day_  
_Of summer twilight, your eyes rushing through me deep_  
_I saw my own waters rushing right back to me_  
_You sitting shotgun, the lost coast calling me_  
_Umpqua Forest, your face just like in my dream_

He will not hold her, never anything more than a chaste, unfeeling embrace, never the desperate, grappling thing that begs within him. And he can tell himself he will not miss her, not think of her each day, and some days he might even believe it. But not tonight, here in this hammock with music playing and the cold air chilling him to the bone. He will never make these memories with her, summer nights with her deep blue eyes shaking him to the core, but her face will always haunt his dreams anyway, enwrapped in flames that he’s desperate to save her from.

The hammock continues to sway as the song starts over, echoing in his mind and around his being, like the noxious smoke he carries with him everywhere and the ache in his heart that will never leave.


End file.
